Seams
by KarotsaMused
Summary: Loved things wear with age. Worn things tear with age. Torn things are worthless, but the ripping holds its own allure. [58, 38]


A/N: Disclaimer: Saiyuki isn't mine.  
  
Part three of my so-called trilogy, where everything I suppose comes kinda full circle. But the three 58 38 fics aren't meant to be read in conjunction at all. They all attack the same idea from different angles. So now I've got my triangle XD Thanks for putting up with me while I experiment.  
  
Actually this came about after I overheard a conversation, the only lines of which that met me were "Would you fuck her or hurt her?" ...odd and disturbing, but mildly inspiring as well. I'm not sure what I was shooting for when I wrote this. I'm still not sure. I just know it's interesting...  
  
Warnings: Language, citrus-esque (would you call it an orange?), shounen-ai. Lotsa fun stuff.  
  
Enjoy  
  
.  
  
Gojyo saw it. It wasn't hard to miss. The waitress saw it. The barman saw it. Those girls outside, they saw it too. The only ones who didn't were the ones in the way. The objective and the obstacle. Gojyo smiled a bit to himself.  
  
.  
  
Gojyo posed the question later on, no tact. He'd never needed to be tactful, not around Hakkai. He whispered it in a shell-pink ear, his tongue following the words as they slithered over his skin. "You want him, don't you?"  
  
Hakkai shut his eyes tight, not needing to ask about 'him' or what had brought the question on. Every muscle in his body tensed to near breaking, his hands wrapping around Gojyo's wrists as they stroked his sides. He had to let go when Gojyo pulled his shirt away, but groaned, "Gojyo, _please._"  
  
Gojyo teased Hakkai's skin with hands and tongue, the best way he knew how. The way that made Hakkai squirm. His fingers swirled over the sensitive areas bordering his scar, open palms kneading Hakkai's tensed form. He rained hot kisses on the brunette's neck between his next words. "Tell the truth. You want him. You want to fuck him."  
  
"N-n." The brunette turned his face away, burying his eyes in his arm, flushed bright in the candlelight.  
  
Gojyo grinned against Hakkai's skin. "If you say his name loud enough he just might come in here."  
  
Green eyes snapped open. "Gojyo!" he cried, blushing more fervently, his arousal overpowered by chagrin. The redhead pressed on, toying with the belt loops of Hakkai's pants.  
  
"He'd hit me and then I'd lock him in with you. You'd like that?"  
  
"_Stop_." Gojyo and Hakkai stared at one another a while, deadlocked in stalemate. Hakkai's hands gripped roughly at Gojyo's shoulders. The redhead smiled and gave an infinitesimal nod, busying his mouth with Hakkai.  
  
.  
  
Gojyo was possessive over Hakkai. He had every right to it. It hurt a little bit every time he caught one of Hakkai's lingering looks over at a certain blonde. But sometimes he wanted to see how far the hurt could go. The knives weren't so bad sometimes.  
  
.  
  
Gojyo said, "You don't have to say my name."  
  
Hakkai glared fiercely at him, repeating the name with every breath. "Gojyo. Gojyo, Gojyo, Go..."  
  
Gojyo silenced him with a kiss hard enough to bruise. "You don't have to." He sat back, half to reposition himself and half to just look down at the body below him. Bruised and battered and marred beyond any hope of polish, Hakkai's skin was one of his finer points. His hands dove below the belt line.  
  
Hakkai started and thrashed his head, breathless and half-angered. "Not there. Oh, Gojyo..."  
  
"Don't remind yourself it's me. I want to see it."  
  
"No. Stop."  
  
"I won't."  
  
.  
  
He had asked Hakkai once, serenely over dinner when the other two were out. Just out. He'd taken a sip of his beer and murmured, "What would you do...who would you be with, if I wasn't here?"  
  
Hakkai had smiled glassily into his food. "I wouldn't be here, Gojyo," he answered. "I wouldn't be alive."  
  
Gojyo grinned wryly at that. "You know what I mean. Who would you bed?" he asked, slow and deliberate. His chopsticks were pointed at the little dip between Hakkai's sternum and the soft expanse of his neck. The brunette bent his head.  
  
They had eaten in silence after that, Gojyo at once wondering what had possessed him to ask the question and what Hakkai's answer could be. The second part was only to comfort himself. He'd known full well, even then.   
  
Gojyo had saved Gonou. Sanzo, however, saved Hakkai. Gonou sat with Gojyo through endless games of cards, speaking censored words in waking and candidly in fevered dreams. Hakkai sat with Sanzo through countless rainy nights, silent and stoic but always -there-. With Gojyo, Gonou needed words. They had always, always needed words or cards. With Sanzo, the only catalyst was the rain.  
  
Gojyo was possessive over Hakkai. He had every right to Gonou, and Hakkai had let it continue. Gonou was an irremovable part of him, and with that came Gojyo. But sometimes, sometimes the lingering ache of blood red and the smell of cheap cigarettes urged him to move on. There is a big difference between Marlboros and Hi-Lites, no matter what anybody else says. Hakkai adored Gojyo in the way someone adores a good jacket or worn jeans. And with adoration comes time, with time comes wear, with wear comes breakage. Gojyo saw his own seams ripping, and wanted to see how far the hurt could go.   
  
.  
  
"Say it."  
  
"Sa..."  
  
"Say all of it."  
  
"Sanzo!"  
  
"Say it again." 


End file.
